"He looks furious."
"He looks terrified," I correct her.
Simon takes a step forward, his jaw tight, completely ignoring the blonde woman next to him. He looks like he wants to march across the room and demand an explanation. He looks like he wants to reclaim what he realizes he lost.
A cold, irrational possessiveness snaps inside me.
This was supposed to be a performance. A calculated, strategic maneuver to destabilize my family’s power structure. But as I watch Simon stare at the woman standing next to me, the strategy vanishes, replaced by a violent, territorial instinct that I have never felt in my entire life.
He doesn't get to look at her. He doesn't get to want her back.
I turn my body slightly, blocking Simon’s line of sight.
Audrey looks up at me, confused by the sudden movement. Her eyes are wide, the golden flecks in her irises catching the light ofthe chandeliers. Her lips are parted slightly, stained a deep, dark red by the makeup artist.
"Malcolm?" she whispers.
"Transparency, Audrey," I murmur, my voice dropping to a rough, quiet register that only she can hear.
I don't give her time to process the words. I lower my head and press my lips to the soft, sensitive skin just beneath her jaw.
It is a public claim. It is a deliberate, visual weapon aimed directly at my brother across the room.
But the moment my mouth touches her skin, the weapon misfires.
She tastes like champagne and heat. She lets out a tiny, involuntary gasp, her fingers gripping the lapel of my tuxedo jacket to steady herself. The sound vibrates directly against my lips, sending a shockwave of pure, unadulterated desire straight to my core.
My hand slides from her lower back to her waist, pulling her flush against my chest. The silk of her dress is nothing against the heavy wool of my suit. I can feel the frantic beating of her heart.
I meant to brush my lips against her jaw for a second. Just long enough for the cameras to catch it. Just long enough to break Simon’s mind.
Instead, I linger. I drag my mouth slowly across her skin, inhaling the scent of her, feeling the exact moment her body stops fighting the contact and melts into me.
When I finally pull back, the noise of the gala seems muffled.
Audrey is staring at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The sarcasm is completely gone from her face. The fear ofSimon is gone. There is only a dazed, chaotic awareness in her eyes, mirroring the exact sensation currently tearing through my chest.
I look over her shoulder.
Simon is standing frozen by the bar, his face pale, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He looks completely, utterly destroyed.
I won. The trap worked flawlessly.
But as I look back down at Audrey, her fingers still clutching my jacket, I realize the terrifying truth I managed to avoid for the last twenty-four hours.
I didn't just set a trap for my brother.
I stepped right into it with her, and I have absolutely no intention of ever walking out.
CHAPTER 7
AUDREY
The fabric of his tuxedo jacket is rough beneath my fingers.
I should let go. The cameras are at the other end of the room. Simon is standing by the bar, effectively neutralized by whatever psychological warfare Malcolm just waged. The performance is over.
But my hand stays clamped to his lapel.
